To Please Himself Only, the Cat Purrs
by eclecticxdetour
Summary: WINCEST of the SamDean Persuasion Rated M for Underage Boy-Kissing and language Sam makes a friend that both he and Dean know that John will not approve of. When John finds out about him, Dean is sure to comfort Sam through his loss.


"And where do you think you're going?" asked Dean, eyebrow cocked as Sam swung open the back screen door.

"Outside," replied Sam, glancing back at his brother at the kitchen table.

"You know we're not allowed outside unless we're training."

"Dude, it's the backyard."

"Yeah, _but Dad doesn't want us outside_."

Sam sighed and let go of the screen door, leaning back against it as he turned toward Dean. He implored his puppy-dog eyes at Dean and begged, "_Please_?"

Dean bit his bottom lip and then ran his tongue over his lips. His stomach flipped as he looked at his little brother; he was never able to resist that look, even before they got into each others' pants. "Fine, Sammy, go ahead," he breathed, eyeing Sam, face stern, "but you better stay in the backyard. I catch you trying to leave the yard and you're on gun duty, baby boy."

Sam grinned brightly and bounded over to Dean. He framed Dean's face and planted a wet kiss to his brother's lips, "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," said Dean dismissively, swatting Sam's ass affectionately as his brother turned toward the door.

Dean waited in the kitchen while Sam did whatever he wanted to do outside. He finished up his trig homework and closed his textbook. He glanced at the oven clock and sighed; Sam had been outside for more than an hour and a half.

Dean got up and grabbed a coke from the refrigerator. He popped the lid open and took a sip before pushing the screen door open and scanning the backyard for his little brother.

"Sammy!" he called, taking another sip of his soda.

Dean heard his brother's swear and then Sam was jogging toward him, right hand wrapped around his left forearm.

"What?" panted Sam, fingers tightening around his arm.

"Just… wondering where you were," replied Dean, eyes taking in the clench of Sam's hand around his forearm.

"I was staying in the backyard just like you told me to, man," said Sam, wincing.

"Alright, what the fuck happened to your arm?" asked Dean, unable to keep his worry in any longer.

"Nothing," murmured Sam, swinging his arms behind his back and resuming his hold on his forearm.

"Bullshit, nothing, Sammy," said Dean, letting the screen door swing shut as he stepped outside and toward Sam, "lemme see it."

"No."

Dean set his soda can on the stoop and stepped more intently toward his brother, "Don't make me have to sit on you, man."

Sam leered at Dean and teased, "I _like _when you sit on me."

Dean rolled his eyes and lurched forward and grasped Sam's biceps, "Dude, just let me see your arm."

Sam struggled against Dean's hold but inevitably Dean won out.

"Shit, Sam!" shouted Dean when he pulled Sam's hand away from his forearm revealing the rivulets of blood dripping from four deep, thin scratches there, "What the hell?"

"It's nothing!" shouted Sam in turn, wrenching his arm away from Dean and clenching his fingers around it again, "I was running by the fence and snagged my arm on some stray chain-link; it's nothing to worry about."

"Fuck that, Sammy," said Dean, grabbing Sam's hand and dragging him into the house. He stomped them through the kitchen and down the hallway and into the bathroom, pushing Sam down to sit on the closed toilet lid.

Dean grabbed the rubbing alcohol and peroxide from the cabinet and the bag of cotton balls. He settled all the equipment on the floor next to the toilet and knelt down between Sam's spread legs. "Just stay quiet and lemme clean it up, alright?"

Sam nodded and let go of his arm, brow furrowing at the bloody mess.

Dean frowned and tugged at Sam's hand, turning on the faucet and washing the blood from his brother's fingers. He gently pat Sam's hand dry with a towel and went about his work. He dabbed a few cotton balls with the alcohol and whispered, "This is gonna hurt a bit, man."

Sam nodded again and gestured for Dean to continue.

Dean shifted on his knees and swabbed at Sam's arm with the saturated cotton ball. Once the worst of the blood was cleared away Dean said, "Doesn't look so bad now."

He swiped at Sam's cuts with another alcoholed cotton ball and threw both dirtied balls of cotton into the trashcan.

"Alright, Sammy, time for the peroxide," said Dean, pressing a cotton ball to the mouth of the brown bottle and tilting it down so the cotton ball got soaked with the liquid. He dragged the peroxide along the cuts and his mouth quirked a little when the four trails began to bubble slightly.

"You done?" asked Sam on a sigh, finally looking down at his arm.

"Just about. Gonna wrap it with some gauze since we don't have any huge bandages and then you're done."

Sam reached up to the cabinet and pulled out the bundle of gauze and handed it to Dean.

Dean smiled up at his brother, "Thanks."

"So," started Dean, peeling off some gauze and wrapping Sam's arm, "the fence wasn't rusty or anything, was it? 'Cuz if it was, you know, you might have tetanus or some shit and I don't want you getting lockjaw on me."

"No," replied Sam when Dean finished with his arm, "the fence wasn't rusty."

Dean stood up and brushed off the knees of his jeans. He grabbed the supplies and put them back into the cabinet and with a pat to Sam's cheek he said, "Alright, you're done."

Sam smiled and smoothed the gauze over his arm, the scratches on his arm already stinging less, "Thanks, Dean."

Dean rubbed his knuckles into Sam's skull and said, "No problem, Sammy, just try and keep yourself in one piece, yeah? I don't want Dad to come home and blame me if you're broken."

Sam laughed and batted Dean's hand away from the top of his head, "Oh yeah, because the backyard is just chock full of evil."

Dean rolled his eyes and followed Sam out of the bathroom, frowning when Sam made to go into the backyard again. He latched onto Sam's unmarked arm and pulled him around to face him, "If you think you're going outside again, you better think twice, little brother."

"I'm fine now, Dean, nothing to worry about; you patched me up so now I'm good," sighed Sam, letting Dean pull him into his chest.

Dean looked over Sam's head and through the screen door finding that the sky was already darkening. "It's already dark, Sam, and Dad'll have my ass if you're out without me after dark."

Sam gave one last glance out the screen door and settled in against his brother, kicking the door closed behind him when Dean dragged him to the table. He looked to the oven clock and noticed it was getting close to the time they usually ate dinner. He offered Dean a small smile and settled himself more comfortably at the small kitchen table, "Okay; I was getting hungry anyway."

* * *

The next day while Sam was at school Dean got a call from John. Their father told him that he'd be back from his hunt in two days and that he needed them packed up and ready to go by then. Dean tried to persuade him to stay in town a little longer, at least long enough for Sam to finish the semester but John was not to be persuaded; even becoming slightly angry that Dean should question his order.

Dean sighed across the line and said, "Yes, sir. I'll tell Sammy tonight and talk to his school tomorrow morning."

"Alright, Dean. Make sure not to forget anything and you take care of your brother."

"Will do, Sir," said Dean to the sound of John's disconnected call. Dean sighed and set the phone back on its cradle. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and made his way into his and Sam's room, sadly packing up their meager belongings into two large duffel bags.

* * *

When Sam got home from school he greeted Dean more jubilantly than usual; entire body pressing against Dean as he locked his arms around his brother's neck and fiercely pressed their mouths together.

Dean broke away with a little noise and grabbed onto Sam's hips, "Jesus, Sammy."

Sam just grinned and kissed Dean again, more gently this time, and then gestured for Dean to follow him into the living room. He set his book bag on the coffee table and patted the couch next to him.

Dean sat down next to his little brother and threw his arm around Sam's shoulder, drawing Sam into his side as he kissed Sam's temple, "What's got you so happy?"

Sam wrapped his arm around Dean's waist and snuggled into his brother, "You know that Algebra II test I was worrying about?"

"God, yes. You were up until fucking…" Dean waved his hand trying to remember how late Sam was up studying, "two in the morning studying for that test," then he grumbled, "All the fucking lights in our bedroom on and I couldn't get to sleep."

Sam rolled his eyes and jabbed Dean in the arm though his smile never left his lips, "But hey, you got something out of it didn't you?"

Dean recalled just exactly what he got out of it and he mirrored Sam's smile and groaned, "Oh yeah."

"Perv," laughed Sam and he sighed contently when Dean ran his fingers through his hair, "Anyway. I freaking aced that test, De. Even got the extra credit questions right."

Dean smiled sadly; Sam was finally settling into his new school and Dean had to tell him the bad news and rip his contentedness right out from under him.

"That's awesome, kiddo, I'm real proud of you."

Sam frowned, noticing Dean's nervous countenance and his anxious habit of biting his lip. "Then what's the matter?" he asked, looking up at his brother with wide eyes.

Dean licked his lips and then cleared his throat, pulling Sam tighter to his side as he said, "Dad called today."

"No…" whispered Sam, already knowing what Dean had talked about with their dad.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "He, uh. He wants us packed up and ready to go by Thursday, Sammy."

Sam let out an angry growl and pushed away from Dean. "Why the hell does he always do this!?"

"C'mon, Sammy, calm down--"

"No, Dean! Why does he always have to freakin' uproot us whenever he pleases, huh? He's never around and he just expects us to drop whatever semblance of a life we have and go off with him? It's fuckin' bullshit."

Dean frowned; he knew that Sam had to be really pissed off if he was resorting to cursing. "He's our _dad_, Sam; he's doing what he can. He doesn't--"

"Doing what he can?" asked Sam, incredulously. He flailed his arms and continued, "Yeah, doing what he can to act his revenge on something or someone he can't even _find_, Dean. Fifteen years of this shit, man, and what's come of it, huh? _Nothing!_ Nothing except the abnormality of our lives."

Dean made to stand but Sam pushed him back onto the couch, "No, Dean. I'm done with this." Sam let out a huff and muttered, "I'll see you later." With that Sam left the living room and stormed out the back door.

Dean groaned and put his head in his hands. He'd tried convincing John to let them stay; it wasn't like he didn't know how Sam felt. He let out a shaky sigh and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

He figured he'd let Sam cool off for a while, sure that Sam would eventually come around like he always did. Even if Dean had to persuade him with his body this time; not that Dean exactly disliked that idea.

Dean exhaled slowly before he made himself comfortable on the couch; twenty minutes since Sam had been home and he already had a headache. He absently flicked through the channels on the television before he fell to the clutches of sleep.

* * *

Dean startled awake when he heard the smack of the back screen door being closed. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the kitchen and found his little brother. He stepped closer to Sam and pulled his brother into an embrace and stroked his hand over Sam's hair, "You okay now, baby boy?"

"No," choked Sam, voice rough, "but I know we have to leave and there isn't anything I can do about it, so…"

Dean kissed Sam's forehead and pat Sam's shoulder. He noticed Sam's wince and immediately he frowned, "What's the matter, man?"

"Nothing, just," Sam gasped, hands in his hoodie pocket squirming.

Then Dean heard it, the tiny little mewl as the squirming in Sam's sweatshirt stopped.

Sam's eyes widened and he looked to Dean, "De, don't…."

"Sammy…" warned Dean, reaching his hands inside Sam's sweatshirt and grasping onto the smooth bundle of fur.

Sam pulled his hands out of his pocket, defeated, as Dean pulled the small kitten out.

Dean cradled the little bundle to his chest as it mewled again and he looked to Sam. "And what is this?"

"A kitten?"

"I know that, dumbass, but why do you have it?"

And just like that the dam broke and a torrent of words poured from Sam's lips. "I was in the backyard studying a few days ago and I came upon him and his momma. They were skittish at first but then he braved it out and came up to me and mewled at me and rubbed up against my legs. His mom didn't like it and she hissed at me and tried to get him away from me. She eventually got him and they left."

"Sam…" trailed Dean, the reason for all the scratches Sam's had on his arms lately finally making itself known.

"Lemme finish. I went back out the next day, you know, just to see if they came 'round again and there he was, all by himself. I guess his mom figured he was old enough to be alone and he just… came back. So everyday since then I've been going outside and leaving a bit of hotdog out there, back behind the shed, for him so he won't starve."

"You know what dad said about pets, man."

"But, Dean, look at him!" shouted Sam, gesturing to the small kitten in Dean's arms, "He's so little and I didn't just want to let him fend for himself!"

Dean sighed and carded a hand through his hair, small smile tugging at his lips when the kitten nipped at his fingertips. "Alright, Sammy."

"Alright?" asked Sam, eyes twinkling with hope.

"Yeah," sighed Dean, fingers stroking over the kitten's big ears, "but if Dad finds out it's _your _ass, okay, _not _mine. You got it?"

Sam grinned and took the kitten away from Dean, scratching the kitten beneath his little chin, "I got it."

* * *

Sam was splayed on his and Dean's bed, Latin poetry book open in front of him as he finished his last piece of homework he'd ever turn in to his teachers at his high school. His poetry book got no attention, though, as he was too caught up in watching as the kitten batted at his pencil lying on the bed.

Dean burst into their room, wide grin on his face as he breathed, "Dad's home."

Sam's eyes widened and he grabbed the kitten and hid it under their bed. "Oh no, if he sees Jay I'm _screwed_," groaned Sam, eyes wide with panic.

"Then just…make sure he doesn't get out of our room, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Anyway, Dad said he wants to talk to you."

"Now?" asked Sam, sitting up on the bed and arching his back to pop his joints back into place.

"Yes, now, geekboy."

Sam sighed and left the room to go and talk to their father.

Dean was surprised that during their conversation, Sam and John had managed not to scream at each other.

"Everything okay?" he asked of Sam when Sam settled down on his belly on the bed.

"Yeah, everything's good, actually," replied Sam, small smile gracing his lips. He flopped his upper body over the edge of the bed and he shot up with a gasp. "Shit!"

"Sammy!"

"Jay… he's… he's not under the bed, Dean! Oh, _fuck_!"

"Sammy!"

Sam ignored Dean and jumped off of the bed, screeching to a halt in the hallway as the saw the flick of Jay's thick black tail slip into the bathroom.

"Sammy," growled John, the loud clinking of a belt buckle being done up before the flush of the toilet and rush of sink water preceding their dad bursting out of the bathroom holding Jay by the scruff of his neck, "what the hell is this, son?"

"I-I don't know, sir," stuttered Sam, bangs falling into his face as he looked down at his socked feet.

"What did I say about pets, Sam?"

Sam looked up then, eyes full of defiance as he repeated what he'd told Dean, "But, Sir, he was all alone! He's so small and I didn't want him to _die_!"

John sighed and handed the kitten over to Sam, rubbing a scarred hand through his peppered hair as he replied in a tired voice, "I can see that, Sam. But we're on the road all the time, barely staying in one place long enough for you to even get enrolled in school; you think _you're_ going to be able to keep him alive? He'd probably be better off on his own outside, anyway, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes and snatched Jay from their Dad and then stormed off and back into his and Dean's bedroom.

"Doesn't he understand that he can't always have what he wants?" asked John, sure of the answer even before he asked it. "I want that cat gone before we leave, Dean."

With that said John left Dean to decide if he was going to obey their dad or do what would keep Sam happy.

* * *

Sam cursed like a sailor when he woke up and Jay was gone. He angrily stuffed his clothing into his duffel and went out to the Impala before John or Dean was even ready to leave.

Dean sighed, silently settling in next to his brooding little brother in the back seat.

Normally the Winchester car wasn't silent for such long periods of time, but Sam was in full-on emo mode and even Dean was hesitant to speak to him.

They finally stopped in some small ass township in New Jersey to fill up; gas was cheap and there was a small convenience store where John could grab coffee for himself and junk food for Sam and Dean.

Dean turned to Sam as John stood outside of the car and filled up the tank. He smiled at Sam but only got a glare for his efforts. He rolled his eyes and wrapped a hand around Sam's neck, glancing out the window to make sure John still had his back turned to the window, before he leant in and captured Sam's mouth.

Sam struggled for a moment but then his entire body went limp and he kissed Dean back.

He sighed and slumped against Dean's side when Dean curled his arm around his shoulders. "Why can't I just have something _normal_ for once? I mean, now Jay's gonna _die_."

Dean grinned at Sam and kissed the side of Sam's head, earning himself a curious look from his baby brother. "He's not gonna die, Sammy," replied Dean, cheeky smile still in place.

"What do you mean he's not gonna die?" asked Sam, arms crossing over his chest as he waited, expectantly, for Dean's answer.

"Remember that middle-aged lady that lived five houses down from us?"

"Yeah, she was the one that gave us those awesome brownies when we moved in."

"Oh yeah, that was her," Dean shook his head and continued his train of thought, "anyway, I remember passing her house one time and she was having brunch with some friends and she had two huge fat cats sitting at her feet."

Sam's face lit up as Dean continued, "So I took Jay over there this morning and explained to her how he was all alone and you tried to keep him but that we were moving and you couldn't and she was happy to take him in, little brother."

Sam grinned hugely at Dean and gave Dean a proper kiss, breaking away only when he heard the sound of the gas hose being pulled from the tank.

"Thanks, Dean," whispered Sam, leaning up against Dean and wrapping his arm around Dean's waist as John settled back into the driver's seat.

John glanced back at his sons through the rear-view mirror and nodded at Dean's reflection. "Everything alright back there?"

Dean grinned as Sam shifted and splayed himself out across the back seat with his head in his lap, Sam's eyes already heavy with sleep. He met John's eyes, the smile never leaving his lips as he replied, "Everything's perfect, Sir."


End file.
